


Early on a Saturday

by mellish



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl no Ugoku Shiro | Howl's Moving Castle
Genre: F/M, Marriage, Wizards, domestic life, having a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:23:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellish/pseuds/mellish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howl and Sophie go baby shopping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early on a Saturday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thornmallow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornmallow/gifts).



It was just like Howl to suggest the shopping trip and forget about it three days later, and it was just like Sophie to drag him out of bed with magic and be very pitiless about it. After levitating in the air for a half minute, he flopped on the floor with an impressive thud.

"Darling, I was up til _three_ last night fixing some wretched security spells at Kingsbury, I'm _exhausted_ –"

"None of that. You take so long in the shower, I had to wake you up already. We'll avoid the crowds if we go early," Sophie answered sedately. "If we finish on time you can take a nap when we get back." Howl blinked at her; she had her purse tucked under one arm and was wearing one of her colorless dresses – she'd call it beige, probably, but they agreed to stop arguing about fashion long ago ("Impractical? I object to that!" "Oh, do you? And what would _you_ call it?") and now he mostly occupied himself by wondering at how beautiful she was, regardless. There _were_ those rare occasions when she agreed to whatever he'd picked out for her, and everyone complimented him on his lovely wife, and just last time at the King's ball they had been able to announce they were soon going to have a baby. Everyone had been clapping…"HOWL," Sophie repeated, loudly, because apparently he had fallen asleep again.

"I'm up," he groaned, heaving himself upright with an effort. "Give me fifteen minutes and we can go."

Of course, it was fifty minutes and not fifteen, but when Howl finally emerged with a sheepish grin, smelling of cotton blossom, Sophie simply smirked and said, "Shall we?" It was safe to assume, perhaps, that she had already taken it into account.

\---

Howl wasn't great at going to public places without a flourish. He simply didn't know _how_. "I could wear a hat," he suggested, while she gave reminders to Calcifer, who had helpfully agreed to look after the castle in their absence. "You could perhaps make one with a spell that will make me less distractingly handsome?"

"If anyone comes by, you can just ask them to leave a message, or we'll probably be back before three," Sophie said. Calcifer bobbed to show he was listening. He seemed to be snickering at the same time, and squinting his eyes at Howl meaningfully. "And I've left some bacon rinds in this pan for you."

"Sophie, don't ignore me," Howl implored. "I'm making an honest effort to go out amongst the ordinary populace, here."

"Which includes yourself!" Sophie pulled on her coat and made an odd heavenward gesture. Howl got the impression she used it whenever her younger sisters were giving her trouble. "Honestly, I feel as if I already _have_ a baby."

"I could grow a beard," Howl tried again, earnestly. Sophie flicked him on the nose.

\---

In the end, he wore a pair of shades, and Sophie at first sighed and said they were the funniest-looking glasses she had ever seen, fashion in Wales was so _strange_ and how exactly did he expect to see out of them, but finally let it go. It didn't matter, really, because everyone in Market Chipping knew them already; Sophie, of course, because she had grown up there, but Howl was swiftly being integrated with them as her dashing and unusual husband. The people were just getting used to having a powerful magical couple in their midst – at least a quarter of the time. Howl held her hand and swung it back and forth as they ambled down the cobblestones. He felt fifteen and stupidly in love – he felt like that a lot, when Sophie wasn't being mean and he wasn't fighting back – but it made sense, because that mad little thing beating inside him was a good ten years younger than he was, really.

Sophie had efficiently written out a shopping list, and had also saved a portion from both their earnings in the past four months; if Howl hadn't mentioned shopping that Wednesday, actually, he suspected she'd have told him of its necessity that same evening. He _was_ observant, even if he pretended not to be. She consulted this list now, while Howl pursed his lips and attempted to whistle. As it turned out, it hadn't been as ungodly an hour as he first thought. There were people out on the streets already, and the smell of bread was wafting from the bakery. When he turned to sniff at it, Sophie squeezed the hand he had been using to swish hers around.

"Let's try to get some of this done first," she said, sweetly menacing. She was terribly good at that.

Howl conjured a copy of her list with a snap of his fingers. He scanned it. "This is very detailed," he said, in a tone of light distress. The bits about breast pads and cloth diapers were particularly daunting. Sophie's sudden whistling seemed to take up where his own tuneless _fweeps_ never went; he could have sworn she was giggling at him secretly. Howl scanned the list again, determined not to fail at parenthood. His next comment sounded decidedly more enthusiastic. "Ah, but I _do_ have a good idea of what I want the crib to look like."

\---

Howl's idea of infant things, was, of course, to have everything encrusted with delicate jewels and sparkling and musical, if possible. He did not understand why Sophie disapproved. That shimmery copper pillow with fairy wings that giggled when you put your head against it was certainly charming. So was the bottle with emerald inlay and four interchangeable, crystallized rubber teats. "No and _no_ , Howl," Sophie said, waving back both prospects to their place on the shelves when he held them out to her hopefully. "Do you want to give our child nightmares?"

" _I'd_ have liked these things, if _I_ had them as a child. _I_ had such a threadbare childhood," Howl answered with dignity. Sophie had stacked her basket with utterly boring necessities, and was now studying a row of plastic bottles. Why would anyone get a regular baby bottle when there were baby bottles with _emerald inlay?_ Howl felt cheated, so he announced, "You can't stop me getting it a teddy bear it will sleep with every night."

It was going to dance and sing and have a flashing heart on its belly, Howl decided, and they would somehow charm it to bleat the child's name and remind him or her of his or her parents' eternal love. Howl had a very enjoyable daydream of their child growing attached to the teddy and refusing to be parted with it, even when he turned ten. (In this particular daydream their child was a boy with his nose and Sophie's beautiful reddish-gold hair, but their child varied in every imagining. Howl was certainly excited by the idea of not knowing; it had the feeling of an extra-special Christmas gift, wrapped up inside Sophie, but she would probably disdain that comparison, or think it creepy.)

It was half-true, anyway, that thing about the threadbare childhood. Most of his things were hand-me-downs from Megan – that was what happened when you were the youngest; or perhaps he had simply been unexpected? – and his random acts of magic had jolted his parents instead of delighting them, so they had been extra-careful about giving Howl _objects_ , in case he suddenly had them changing colors or floating around the air. Here, of course, Sophie had been the same in reverse; it had been apparent she was going to be the oldest, and the best things went to her sisters as soon as her sisters were in existence.

This was awfully sound reasoning. He decided to try it out.

"That's not a case for a _silver_ diaper pail, Howl. I don't even know why anyone would sell a _silver_ diaper pail. And the baby won't even notice; he'll be a baby."

\---

He got better as the day progressed, or maybe it was just the grogginess wearing off – he certainly felt a lot better after Sophie agreed to a break and they had munched on some waffle wraps with bacon in the middle. Howl had pushed up his shades and was once again realizing how much he loved Market Chipping. It seemed a charming prospect to settle here a bit more once the baby was born. Suliman had Lettie now, to help out with any Royal Wizarding duties. Howl intended to take his maternal leave, because Sophie couldn't manage a baby _and_ the household all at the same time. No, actually, he was certain she could, but somehow that thought was unbearable, he needed to involve himself somehow, too.

In the furniture store he helped Sophie pick out a crib, and a changing table, and a bottle drying rack. They were all simple, wooden, and perfectly sensible. The shop agreed to set them up in a few days time. Sophie grinned when he flourished over them, though her eyebrows crinkled again when he became enamored with the rocking chair on the sale display, which they happened to pass by on their way out. It seemed to be calling out to Howl with the promise of several afternoons peacefully swaying with his newborn.

"And if you ever turn old again, well, there you've got it already! And you can do all your knitting on it. We can put a little hand-sewn cushion on it."

"You could easily spell one of the dining chairs into a rocking chair. Or make one yourself in your workshop. Don't be impractical, now, dear." He knew that she added the dear at the end to soften it; even Sophie hated to be disagreeing all the time. Occasionally. He had wrangled some sweetness out of her at last, and that was quite enough. He shot one last, fleeting, longing look at it, then distracted himself with wondering whether there was someplace in the castle where they could perhaps set up a double swing.

\---

When they passed by the clothing shop Sophie made a very pointed detaching gesture from his arm. "I'll leave the bags with you out here. I won't take ten minutes." She smiled, quickly, and entered the shop in a manner not unlike fleeing. Howl calmly inspected his fingernails and tried not to take offense. Sophie knew what she was doing in there. It _was_ only a clothing shop after all. And she'd probably just buy diapers. And nursing underclothes. He certainly wasn't interested in those. Silk probably wouldn't be very comfy for a baby. It was _only_ a clothing shop after all.

It was only a _clothing shop_ after all.

Sophie took fourteen minutes, tops. A good thing too. By then Howl had worked himself to near hysterics on the mere idea, which was not (he had to admit) entirely unusual.

\---

"I'm exhausted," Sophie moaned, as they finally pushed back into their home. Their shopping seemed to echo its approval by dumping itself on the floor; they'd levitated some of it back, while Howl distractedly did sums in his head about how much this expedition cost (in terms of suits, as was the norm – but of course he lost count somewhere in the middle and anyway, Sophie's satisfaction was priceless). He let the door click shut behind him before hauling Sophie backwards from where she was drooping, slumped in a grandmother pose, and squishing her in an embrace-from-behind. It was a little awkward to fasten his arms around her because of the bump in her belly, but after a moment of fumbling he found a position where he did not seem to be squishing her. They sighed together for a moment. His feet ached.

"I have a proposition," he began.

Sophie made a soft wailing sound of objection. Howl had to stifle a laugh.

"I say we take an afternoon nap."

"It's only noon, Howl," but there were traces of amusement in her voice, which usually meant a more painless compromise.

"It's three-quarters-past. I _was_ up til three, you know."

She hesitated a moment. Then - "Yes, all right."

Howl scooped her up delicately, and somehow levitated all the parcels to the couch and the uncluttered part of the table at the same time. Then he carried her up the stairs, ignoring Calcifer's smooching sounds – he was halfway through his lunch, and too distracted by the bacon rinds to be more obnoxious. Howl laid Sophie gently on the bed and flopped next to her, uncomfortable aware that he had a goofy smile on his face. He tried to make it debonair, but couldn't seem to. It kept slipping even wider.

"That was fun," he said, casually.

"Mm," she replied.

He put both hands gently on Sophie's stomach and nuzzled his forehead against her neck.

"We haven't gotten it a teething ring yet."

"I _did_ , Howl."

Well. "I'm still going to buy it rosehip shampoo and baby wash. Or conjure it some. And I'll make some rosehip-scented diaper rash cream, too."

"You are going to be a truly ridiculous father," Sophie snickered. (There was no other word for it. It was not a giggle, or a titter; it was a snicker. Typical of her.) Howl found that he did not mind particularly. She was probably right.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this was a ridiculously cute idea, and wanted to give it a try. I hope you enjoyed. Merry Christmas!


End file.
